


Romancing the Surgeon (Or Attempting to, at Least)

by sakuuya



Category: Battle for London in the Air
Genre: Awkward Dates, Kink Negotiation, M/M, Parasol Protectorate AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-21
Updated: 2018-03-21
Packaged: 2019-04-05 13:56:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,060
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14045706
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sakuuya/pseuds/sakuuya
Summary: In the universe ofThe Colonized Confederation, Dr. Jhandir and Dr. Suttler only ever went on one real date. Here’s why.





	Romancing the Surgeon (Or Attempting to, at Least)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [closetcellist](https://archiveofourown.org/users/closetcellist/gifts).



When Dr. Suttler arrived at the restaurant, only a few minutes after the agreed-upon time (he had gotten a bit lost in the unfamiliar neighborhood), he saw Dr. Jhandir standing outside, having a smoke. The man was apparently lost in thought, as he didn’t react when Dr. Suttler approached him

“Anil?” For a moment, Dr. Suttler was struck with worry that the reason the man hadn’t responded to his presence was because it  _ wasn’t _ Dr Jhandir and he had just made a fool of himself. But then the man’s face contorted briefly into a scowl that both left no doubt as to his identity and made Dr. Suttler immediately regret trying for familiarity.

“Oh, Dr. Suttler!” Dr. Jhandir replied, emphasizing the professional title. He set his cigar on an ashtray. “I’m pleased you could make it.”

Dr. Suttler smiled, a little awkwardly. “Me too. You look nice this evening.” And he did, in his perfectly-tailored jacket and peacock-blue paisley waistcoat. One of the pities of their current arrangement, Dr. Suttler thought, was how few opportunities he had to admire Dr. Jhandir fully dressed—the man obviously put a lot of care into his appearance. Dr. Jhandir’s mouth settled into a line, and his eyes flicked up and down Dr. Suttler’s own outfit. He waited long enough to be excruciating before responding.

“I like your tie,” Dr. Jhandir said eventually. Dr. Suttler felt his face flush. It was a simple fact that he  _ wasn’t _ dressed as well. He just didn’t have the knack for it, and he usually paid only minimal attention to what he was pulling out of his wardrobe. He had, however, agonized for nearly half an hour about what tie to wear before settling on a plain black one instead of his usual red.

“Thank you!” The tie itself was nothing special; surely Dr. Jhandir meant that he was happy to make their relationship more official.

The restaurant that Dr. Jhandir had chosen for their rendezvous was a curry house. Once they went inside and were seated, Dr. Jhandir rattled off something—his order, presumably—to the waiter in a language Dr. Suttler didn’t recognize, and then the waiter took Dr. Suttler’s menu away as well, without asking what he wanted.

“I ordered for both of us. Don’t worry, I know what’s worth eating here,” Dr. Jhandir explained. Dr. Suttler nodded. He wasn’t a particular fan of curry, and had been planning to ask Dr. Jhandir what he could order that wouldn’t leave him crying from heat, but it wasn’t worth getting worked up over.

On the other hand, it would have at least given them something to talk about. They sat in awkward silence for what felt like an age before Dr. Jhandir said, “So… Do you have any family?”

“My mother died when I was young,” Dr. Suttler replied, then mentally kicked himself for leading with that, although really, there was no good direction from which to approach the subject of his family. “My father’s still alive, but we don’t get on well.”

“Oh, is he unhappy that you’re…” Dr. Jhandir waved a hand at Dr. Suttler as he trailed off. They were in a crowded restaurant, after all.

“No, he doesn’t know. He just hates that I choose to work in free hospitals and the like instead of taking a more prestigious position. Apparently, helping people who desperately need it isn’t good enough for his son.”

Dr. Jhandir looked sympathetic, or at least unhappy, but also like he had no idea how to follow up from that. 

“What about you?” Dr. Suttler asked once he realized that the other man was really at a loss. “What brought you all the way to London?”

“I came over for medical school and simply never left. I keep in contact with my family in Delhi, but I haven’t been back in years.” He continued, obviously uncomfortable: “They’re not hostile to the work I do, but they don’t like hearing about it. It’s too gruesome for them, I suppose.”

“What are you working on now?” Dr. Suttler said, more out of a desire to keep the conversation flowing than out of real interest. He had done some snooping at the conference where they first met, and he knew that their specialties didn’t much overlap, but it was only polite to ask.

As Dr. Jhandir launched into a spirited explanation of his experiments into suturing blood vessels, Dr. Suttler was inclined to agree with the rest of the Jhandirs. It sounded like vital work, but Dr. Jhandir’s almost loving descriptions of cutting into anesthetized dogs turned his stomach. He supposed he shouldn’t be surprised that Dr. Jhandir was so enthusiastic about blood.

His queasiness must have shown on his face, because Dr. Jhandir stopped mid-sentence and said, “Ah, I didn’t mean to monopolize the conversation. What have you been doing?”

“Nothing so important,” Dr. Suttler said, and immediately wanted to kick himself for saying it. His work  _ was _ important, if less widely-acknowledged as such. But that would never change if he was too self-conscious to advocate for it.

He took a deep breath and tried again: “As I said, I work primarily in free hospitals. I’ve spent a lot of time looking into natural remedies for common illnesses.”

“Natural remedies?” Dr. Jhandir sounded more skeptical than anything.

“Yes!” Suttler said, pushing on regardless. “I’m finding that various herbal distillations are useful for things like pain relief and cold symptoms. And you’d be amazed at what you can do with honey.”

“I imagine I would,” Dr. Jhandir muttered.

Just then, their food arrived, saving them both from the onus of trying to make more small talk. It was yellowish rice with meat mixed in, rather than the curry Dr. Suttler had expected. There was also only a single dish of it—which was either an uncomfortably blatant romantic gesture, given the setting, or perhaps just how this particular food was eaten. Dr. Jhandir motioned for him to serve himself, so he scooped some onto his plate. He’d hoped, given the lack of sauce, that this rice would be less spicy than curries he’d had in the past, but he could tell just from the smell of it that that wasn’t the case. Still, he took a bite, because this was technically a first date and he didn’t want to seem overly fussy.

As he predicted, the heat was too intense for him, and reached almost immediately for his wine glass, which had been filled with white wine without him saying anything. The wine was much tarter than he preferred, but at least it cut through the spiciness of his meal.

“Do you like it?” Dr. Jhandir asked, once Dr. Suttler had time to swallow that first bite. “I asked for the mildest biryani they had; I know what English palates can be like.”

Dr. Suttler took another drink of wine and cleared his throat before responding. “It’s good,” he said, trying to sound like his esophagus wasn’t on fire.

Dr. Jhandir frowned. “Are you sure? You look a little flushed. I can send it back if you’d like.” He started to twist in his seat,looking for a waiter.

“No, no, it’s fine.” Dr. Suttler said hurriedly. To prove his point, he took another bite, followed quickly by another swig of wine.

“All right, if you’re certain.”

The bulk of the meal passed in silence, which was mostly a good thing, but it gave Dr. Suttler plenty of time to stew on how poorly the date was going, especially as he drank more. The waiters here were very attentive about keeping his glass full, which, like the semi-companionable silence, was both a blessing and a curse, and Dr. Suttler found himself getting drunker than he’d meant to.

When he’d eaten about all he could manage, he found himself staring at Dr. Jhandir’s hand as Dr. Jhandir set down his wine glass. Practically without thinking, he reached across the table and set his own hand atop Dr. Jhandir’s.

Dr. Jhandir looked up like a frightened animal and jerked his hand away, toppling the glass in the process.

“Oh! I’m so sorry! I didn’t…” Dr. Suttler said awkwardly as he helped Dr. Jhandir mop up the spilled wine. It had quite soaked the tablecloth and spilled onto Dr. Jhandir’s plate, but at least none had gotten on the man himself, as far as Dr. Suttler could tell. Dr. Jhandir struck him as the type of person who would be very upset at getting his clothes messy.

“No, that’s all right,” Dr. Jhandir said. “I was just about finished anyway. I just… I wasn’t expecting…” he trailed off helplessly. After a long, tense moment, he put a hand over one of Dr. Suttler’s and patted it twice before pulling away again.

The two of them lapsed into another long silence. Finally, Dr. Suttler opened his mouth to say that this wasn’t working and maybe they shouldn’t see each other again when Dr. Jhandir said, in a perfectly conversational tone, “Tell me, have you ever been electrocuted?”

At first, Dr. Suttler thought that his tipsiness had caused him to mishear the other man. “E-excuse me?”

“Not fatally, obviously,” Dr. Jhandir said, waving a hand. “But has anyone ever administered an electric shock to you? I hear it’s intensely painful, particularly for how small a mark it leaves on the subject.”

Dr. Jhandir sounded so normal, so casual, that Dr. Suttler had to look around the restaurant, to make sure that no one was staring at them now that the conversation had turned so blatantly sexual. When he looked back at Dr. Jhandir, there was a look in the man’s eyes, almost a desperation, that belied the calmness of his tone.

“I have an apparatus at my home, a galvanic prod, that produces non-lethal electric shocks, but I have yet to find a suitable subject to test its effect on living tissue.” Dr. Jhandir’s voice was softer now, lower.

Dr. Suttler swallowed heavily. His black tie suddenly felt very tight. “I don’t have any prior experience, but I think I could be of assistance there,  _ doctor _ .”

“I’d be so grateful,” Dr. Jhandir said, still sounding a few shades shy of filthy. “However, in order to get proper experimental data, the subject would have to be blindfolded and restrained.”

In other circumstances, Dr. Suttler might have asked more questions—though if he was being honest with himself, the chances that he would turn down being blindfolded and tied up by a paramour were vanishingly low, in any circumstances. But one of the things that had always made his relationship with Dr. Jhandir fulfilling was how useful it was for relieving stress, and the good Lord knew he could use less stress right now. He was ready to put this whole evening behind him and remind himself why he’d started seeing Dr. Jhandir in the first place.

“Yes, please,” he replied, unable to keep up the pretense that this was some kind of dispassionate conversation about experimental procedure.

“Excellent. We’ll discuss it further at my house. I want to make  _ absolutely _ sure you know what you’re in for.” Dr. Jhandir said. He looked relieved, but even that didn’t break the spell. 

Dr. Jhandir paid the bill for both of them, and they left the curry house together, Dr. Suttler leaning a bit on the shorter man for support. It felt good—reassuring—that Dr. Jhandir was willing to prop him up (albeit not without a little grumbling), so he was leaning perhaps a little harder than his level of inebriation strictly warranted. 

Dr. Jhandir hailed a cab, and Dr. Suttler half-tumbled into it. The ride back to Dr. Jhandir’s house was quiet. Dr. Suttler’s mind was occupied with electrical shocks, and he imagined that his companion’s was as well. It wasn’t a good subject for a cab ride, but even the prospect of an entirely new sensation wasn’t enough to stop Dr. Suttler from feeling a bit isolated.

He found his hand creeping toward Dr. Jhandir’s again. There was another flash of animal panic in Dr. Jhandir’s eyes when Dr. Suttler’s hand made contact, but he contained it this time.

“Suttler,” Dr. Jhandir commanded, “stop that at once.”

Dr. Suttler sighed and withdrew his hand. When Dr. Jhandir used that tone of voice, he was happy to obey.


End file.
